


Must Be Doin' Somethin' Right

by sg_wonderland



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 08:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8136695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg_wonderland/pseuds/sg_wonderland
Summary: Jack takes care of Daniel





	

**Author's Note:**

> Heard this song on the radio today and I was like, "Wait a minute, I wrote a fic for this song....." Every time I hear the line 'deep blue need you eyes', I think of Daniel.

Must Be Doing Somethin’ Right

A woman is a mystery  
A man just can't understand  
Sometimes all it takes to please her  
Is the touch of your hand  
N' Other times you got to take it slow  
And hold her all night long  
Heaven knows there's so many ways  
A man can go wrong

*Chorus* 

Must be doin' somethin' right  
I just heard ya sigh  
N' Lean into my kiss  
And close those deep blue need you eyes  
Don't know what I did  
To earn a love like this  
But baby I must be doin' somethin' right

Anywhere you wanna go  
Baby show me the way  
I'm open to suggestions  
Mmm whatever you say  
Tonight's about givin' you what you want  
Whatever it takes  
Girl I hope I’m on the right road  
Judgin' by the smile on your face - Dodson, Marty; Matthews, Patrick Jason

 

You don’t get to where I’ve gotten in life without being a fairly good judge of people. And I pride myself on being a very good judge of people. Which leads directly to my current problem. 

Daniel. Something is wrong with Daniel. I don’t think it’s anything major, like he’s thinking about chucking it all and haulin’ ass to Oahu. Come to think of it, that sounds like a plan I could get behind.

No, he’s just a little…off. A little too quiet, a little too sad, a little too withdrawn. The last few missions have been tough on him, more of a me-mission than a we-mission. He does his job, keeps his mouth shut and loses a little more of himself every time we go looking for weapons and technology and ignore the folks who build them.

That’s why I fled the base as soon as I could, leaving him more than a bit confused. I just shot him a quick call, told him I had some errands to run and we’d meet up back at the house. I made a trip to the specialty candle shop because the lady there makes a line of lightly-scented candles that won’t whack out his allergies. And because I know it’ll piss him off, I drop into the flower shop and buy him a bouquet of black-eyed Susans. They’re pretty without being too flowery and don’t have too much of a scent. And because he hates for me to buy him flowers.

But I’m a guy and I only know how to do guy things. Like buying flowers and candles and trying to make a romantic gesture. I swing through the organic market before hurrying back home, pleased that I’ve beat him here.

The wine goes in the fridge to chill, the cheese on the counter to soften, the fruit in the sink to be rinsed off. I place the candles around the tub in the master bath. I had the large, jetted tub installed to help alleviate some of the knee pain, not knowing how much fun it could be when enjoyed with a close, personal friend. I light the candles and turn the overhead lights as dim as they will go.

The fruit is rinsed and dried, the wineglasses perused for water spots and the stereo loaded with soft, sensual music. I’ve just changed into old, well-worn jeans and a cotton shirt when I hear his Jeep in the drive. I hurriedly light the fireplace and hit the living room lights before he opens the door, stopping to stare. His expression clearly asks me what’s going on so I greet him with a long, slow, loving kiss as I push the door closed behind him.

“Jack?” He finally manages to speak.

“Hmm?” I ask, kissing him again.

“What’s going on?”

I let my hands frame his face, my thumbs stroke the corners of his mouth. “I just thought you needed a little extra pampering. Have a seat.” I kiss him again before patting his butt, heading him toward the living room.

I grab the tray from the kitchen, start the stereo as I walk by. He’s peeled off his jacket and is standing in front of the fireplace. I set the tray on the coffee table and urge him to sit on the ottoman. He does, still clearly bemused. I pour him a glass of wine and hand it to him. I nip his glasses off and lay them on the mantel before sitting on the matching ottoman. Pulling his feet into my lap, I slowly unlace his boots, slowly sliding them off. I slither my hands up under the hem of his jeans, hear him catch his breath as I unpeel his socks and bare his feet. 

Reaching behind me, I grab the basket of lotion, select one and pour out a dollop. I warm the lotion between my hands before I meticulously stroke his feet. His body goes rigid when I massage his arches, this is something that only I’ve ever done for him. He sips his wine, eyes wide and blue as they watch my hands stroke and caress and massage his feet.

“Does that feel good?”

“Mmm, yes.”

I grab a washcloth out of the basket and clean my hands off before pulling the tray forward. I select a piece of cheese and offer it to him. After a moment of shock, he opens his mouth and takes the bite from my fingers. He starts to return the favor but I bat his hand away. “Let me do this for you.” I feed him cheese and fruit and crackers, giving him wine and kisses in between bites, the only light in the room coming from the fireplace, the music low and sensual.

I feed him a strawberry and lean forward to take it from his mouth. He groans as he tilts his head, letting me taste both his sweetness and that of the fruit. My hands ease his thighs apart and I scoot closer to him, giving him a full, passionate kiss. I hear the chink as he fumbles the glass to the floor so that he can get his hands on me. My chest, my shoulders, my hair as he guides me closer and closer.

I ease back before things get too far out of hand. “Got something else for you, if you can hang on for a few minutes?” I hand him back his glass and feel his curious eyes on me as I head for the bedroom. In the bathroom, I turn the water on, sprinkle some bath salts (manly scented, mind you) and fill the tub. Flipping the tap off, I head back to the living room, to find he’s pushed the ottomans aside and is sitting on the floor in front of the fire.

He makes a gorgeous picture, the light dancing off his hair, off his face as he stares at the flames. If I didn’t have a specific agenda, I’d slide right down there beside him. As it is, I offer him my hand, pulling him to his feet. If my knees would take it, I’d try the Rhett Butler thing, but I don’t think either of us wants to chance me dropping him while I’m sweeping him up the stairs.

So I curl my fingers around his and lead him to the bathroom. When I open the door, the steam rolls out and he blinks at the scene before him. The candles are warm and line the back deck of the tub, the gentle scent of the bath salts wafts through the air. I know the second he spots the flowers, his hand stiffens in mine and he shoots me a glare. I tilt his chin and kiss the frown off his face. 

While he’s trying his damnedest to stay mad, I slowly unbutton his shirt and slide it away, letting my fingers wander down his ribs, smiling when he jerks at the tickling texture. My fingers find the buttons of his jeans and with torturous timing, I open them one by one. I slide the jeans down, taking the briefs with them, holding his hands and urging him to step out and into the tub.

I let him settle himself while I shuck my own clothing, urging him to scoot forward and insert myself behind him. He leans back between my legs, sighing silently. Grabbing the cup I’d brought from the kitchen, I slowly wet his hair, letting my fingers massage his scalp. He leans into my caress, clearly enjoying himself. I take the organic (and extremely expensive) shampoo and pour some on my palm, lathering his hair, getting pleasure from rubbing and sliding his hair between my fingers. I carefully rinse his head, trying to keep the suds out of his eyes, enjoying pulling the soft, slick strands between my fingers.

I pour soap into the sponge and proceed to scrub every inch I can get to. He arches and leans and gives me access to everything I want.

With a groan, he rolls over, bringing my mouth to his, kissing me as if his very life depended upon it. Sometimes, it feels that way to both of us. Him, here like this, sometimes it’s all that keeps me sane. And alive.

I slow him down, bank his passion by drawing the kisses out, gradually turning him back to lie against my chest, playing with the curls that the steam brings out in his hair.

Eventually, the water cools too much and I urge him to sit up while I crawl out and I hold out a towel to wrap him in when he steps out, smile as he groans as the heated towel surrounds his body. I briskly dry him before leading him into the bedroom. The candles on the nightstand offer the only light in the room. I walk him around to his side and help him in, tuck him in snugly. 

I sit on the edge and treat myself by just looking at him. His hair is damp and springy, his eyes soft and warm and without the weariness that has concerned me these past few days. I kiss him on the forehead, smoothing the lines out with my thumb. “I’ll be right back, baby.” He slides his hand onto mine, palm to palm, fingers curled around each other. “Keep my place warm for me?” He gives me a smile and I let my fingers linger over his cheek before I leave him.

I take my time cleaning up the bathroom, re-corking the wine, banking the fire for the night. And by the time I get back to bed, he is exactly where I wanted him. Deeply asleep, curled up facing my side of the bed. I blow out the candles before I slip in bed, snuggle up beside him.

Sometimes, occasionally, I figure out how to do something right.


End file.
